


Rules to bend and break

by mynameisnotmac



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Much more pining than first anticipated, Pining, Trips to the ER, friends to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnotmac/pseuds/mynameisnotmac
Summary: you and your best bud were comin’ out of the hardware store the other day…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So letterkenny is my latest obsession. Have what I’ve been thinking about all week 😂

Wayne and Darry are coming out of Old Miller’s Hardware store carrying stuff for redoin’ the coop when it happens. They usually go to the town over, on account of the McMunn and Yates there has more variety and sometimes a better sale, but Wayne doesn’t have time this week and if they pick up their order from the hatchery next Monday, there best be a coop ready for them he supposes. Katy wanted to have them do the romin free range type this year, but Wayne doesn’t think it’s a good idea on account of the dogs. Stormy’s a beautiful dog, but she doesn’t always have the best self control when it comes to the poultry. Besides, giving the chickens free range just giving them free range to shit all over the yard is his way of thinkings.

All this is going through his mind when he sees Darry drop the roll of chicken wire as he’s crossing the street. Now, in all the years Wayne’s known Daryl, he ain’t ever been inclined to call him graceful, but this is even worse than his usual tomfuckery. He watches from the sidewalk as Darry drops the other bags he’s carrying and gets the roll back up in both his arms only to remember the bags that were still on the ground so he drops the wire again. This goes on far longer than it should have before Wayne shouts over to his buddy.

“Hey there Super Chief, need a hand?”

Daryl doesn’t get a chance to respond because at that moment Jivin’ Pete’s truck comes through the intersection and right into Daryl, sending him airborne.

It feels slow as molasses in January for Wayne as he watches Darry go about one and a half parked trucks forward and then hit the pavement again, rolling twice or so. Time shoots forward once he hears the thud and without knowing how he gets there he finds himself on his knees in front of his bud, who’s awfully still, displayed out on the main street.

“Fuck. Darry? Dar!” Wayne’s got his hands on Daryl’s face, his arms, his chest, back to his face. He knows this is probably all kinds of inappropriate, groping at his friend like this in front of God and everyone but he can’t really bring himself to care, especially when Daryl scrunches up his face like he’s sucked a lime and gives a pained groan. “Darry, fuck, h’re you now?” His voice is about as steady as a freshly grated back road and his hands were probably bound to be shaking if they weren’t bunching up the front of Darry’s coveralls. Daryl looks up at him, squinting against the pain and the afternoon sun. 

“Fuck a duck that smarts. Wayne?”

“Dar?”

“The fuck happened? And why can’t I move my arm?” 

Wayne’s been too busy taking in the bleeding gash on his forehead and the road rash down the side of his cheek to realize Darry’s shoulders’ out of his socket. Seeing that sends something boiling through his blood and he’s reaching to unsnap his cuffs without thinking. 

“Jivin’ fuckin Pete.” 

“What?”

The only answer Wayne gives back is a low ‘hnnnnmmm’ and he’s on his feet. Darry’s grabbing around his feet with his good arm and manages to get a hold of the cuff of his jeans. 

“Where the fuck you goin big shoots?”

“Don’t you worry, just running an errand. I’ll be right back.”

He’s familiar with the red haze over his vision. Same haze as when he found out the kids two grades up were throwin Darry’s lunch in the creek. Or when a drunk degen put his hands on Katy, even after she told him to piss off. Or generally whenever someone threw a word or a fist at Darry. That was his best bud after all. 

Everything is scarlet as he pulls open the truck door to a very frightened jivin Pete. He’s not moved an inch since he brought the truck to a halt, just sitting there, phone on his knee where he was lookin at it when he hit Darry. hoping Wayne’s too preoccupied to deal with him, but unfortunately for him that’s not the case. 

“Jivin’” Pete swallows nervously. 

“Wayne...”

“H’re ya now?”

“Not s-“

“Don’t matter, you’re about to be not so great in a second anyways ya titfucker.”

Wayne’s not usually one for beakin but he’s not really himself right now. He’s got a fistful of shirt, yankin Pete out of the truck and throwin him on his ass. 

Now Wayne loves a good fight as much as the next guy, but he knows when a man’s had enough - usually. Every so often something happens that flicks a switch on he can’t turn off. So he’s just over Pete, landing blow after blow cause he can’t seem to stop himself. Not ‘til he hears someone behind him. 

“Wayne?” Darry’s voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he got himself in. He whips his head around to see Darry’s got him self pushed up on his very unsteady legs. He’s cradling his right arm and it looks like it’s a mighty fine effort to stay vertical. “Ts’ not worth the effort bud.” 

Wayne’s about to argue, but then Darry stumbles a bit and it’s enough to make him let go of Pete’s collar and stomp his way over. 

“Okay there super shoots, I’ll let you have this one, let’s just get you in the truck.” He takes Darry’s elbow more gently than he usually would and let’s his hand hover at the small of his back. “T’s like helpin’ an old lady cross the road.” He mumbles, more to himself, but it gets a snort out of Darry.

Very slowly, they make their way to where Wayne parked up the street. He tries to ignore the way his stomach drops when he hears Darry’s whine as he helps him into the truck. He can’t ignore the fuzzy red edges in his vision when Jivin’ Pete drives past them but Darry’s got a fistful of his flannel and just gives him a tug like he knows what he’s thinking, because of course he does. 

“Just go get the stuff fer the coop and lets get out of here.” Wayne’s near forgot about the bags lying in the road. He’d just as soon leave them there, but Daryl tells him to pitter patter, so he does. 

When he comes back, Daryl’s got his eyes closed and his jaw set against the pain and if that don’t just make Wayne feel like someones squeezin his insides in a giant fist. He notices the gash on his forehead is dripping down into his eye, so he takes the handkerchief out of his shirt pocket as he gets in and tries to sop it up a bit. His hands feel rough and clumsy, like they aren’t used to tryin’ to be gentle, but lord knows he’s tryin’.

“H’re ya doin there?” he says, pretending like his voice ain’t the soft one he uses with Stormy in a thundershower. If Darry notices he doesn’t comment.

“Been better, super chief. Just wanna go home.”

“Hard no.”

“No?”

“Gotta get your arm sorted there dumbass.”

“Oh yeah.” he glances down at the offending limb “Everything’s a little fuzzy right now.”

“Yer always a little fuzzy bud.” Wayne says as he starts the truck, cause it’s easier to pick the low hanging fruit than show how worried he is. 

Wayne drives them into the next town over, on account of it’s bigger, and has a real ER and all. He tries to take the roads with the fewest potholes, but it’s still Canada no matter which way you go. This ain’t the first time he’s had to take Darry to the hospital, and it probably won’t be the last, knowin his friend, but it’s usually not this bad and usually Katy is there to do all the tender stuff, like hold him still, make sure he’s still conscious and shit. He doesn’t have to check if Darry’s conscious this time, cause every time they hit a dip in the road he lets a sharp cry slip through. It must be bad then, cause Daryl’s soft, but he ain’t weak. The thought makes Wayne drift to the shoulder slightly, hitting the rumble strip for a second, which in turn makes Darry hiss through his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry bud.”

“T’s okay. ‘M fine.” But he uses his good arm to wrap around Wayne’s between them in an attempt to brace himself a bit better. Normally, Wayne doesn’t let people this close to him like this, it’s not proper, but it’s a special exception so aside from asking if it actually helps - he’s assured it does - he lets it slide.

He calls Katy from the waiting room of the ER and tells her to find folks to help with the evening chores. Darry’s head’s stopped bleeding so much which unfortunately doesn’t make him look half as bad as he did, despite the bruises beginning to form. This doesn’t work so well in their favour, since after being triaged and being told there’s no immediate danger to Daryl’s condition, they get sent back to the waiting room, where good men go to grow old. Katy texts back ten minutes later with the news of who she’s wrangled together and demands for updates when they happen.

An hour and a half later they’re still in the waiting room, watching sports bloopers on a grainy tv behind a cage when Darry presses himself against Wayne’s side. Now, given the day they’ve had, and the fact they’re the only people they know in the waiting room, he’s almost willing to let it slide. But when Darry outright nestles himself in the crook Wayne’s made by laying his arm across the back of his chair, it’s another matter. He’s just asking for a ‘boo fuckin whoo’ and Wayne’s never been shy to chirp his best bud, but then he remembers the sound of Darry hitting the pavement and the words die on his tongue like roadkill.

“What’s the fuss there shoots?” He says instead, and lord if the tone of his voice don’t make him feel at least 12-ply. Darry leans the better side of his face of his face against his shoulder and sets off the squeezing fist in Wayne’s gut.

“Tired.” he mumbles. “Sore. Real sore. Like, worse than the time yer dad got us after he caught us smokin’ in the barn.”

“Worse than the time you tried to jump two lounge chairs end to end on your bike and didn’t stick the landing?”

“Worse than the time we were ridin’ in the bed of the truck and you pushed me off to see what’d happen.”

“Weren’t goin’ that fast. Didn’t bounce like we thought you would.”

“Sure didn’t.”

Darry shifts a bit, getting his face right into the juncture of Wayne’s neck and collar bone, practically snuggling. Here’s the thing about Wayne: he has a rule about snuggling, he doesn’t. The only people who’ve ever been able to openly get away with it was Katy and Angie. But here’s the thing about Darry: He doesn’t care about Wayne’s rules. Never has really. Wayne hates it; more accurately, he hates how he doesn’t hate it. How Darry is the only person who could ever get away with this. He’s started fights for much less. But here he is, his best bud pretty near in his lap and his heart’s buzzing like some dumb lovestruck teenager. Almost not worth thinking about. 

“You gonna make it? What kind of flowers should we get for the funeral? You know it’s gonna be the softest funeral ever, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Give yer balls a tug.” Is what Darry probably says, but it gets lost in the collar of Wayne’s shirt. It’s so pathetic that Wayne loses all sense of what’s appropriate, and rests his hand on Darry’s head, being mindful of the sore spots. Darry hums contentedly. “We should do this more often.”

“Hard No.” But he keeps his hand tangled in curls and ignores the way Darry’s breath on his neck makes his ears pink.

Darry’s asleep when they finally call him back. Wayne watches as they clean him up and pop his arm back into place, heart feeling like it’s in a vice and he doesn’t want to think about why. He’s the toughest guy in Letterkenny, he’s seen Daryl get scuffed up pretty bad, this shouldn’t feel any different. But between his the image of Darry still on the road behind his eyelids and all the things he doesn’t let himself think about, some dam just outright burst and he’s not sure how to stop the flood. Fuck every duck he’s not sure what to do about any of this.


	2. Puzzle’s missing some pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yer buddy’s been sitting on something but he won’t tell you what the fuck is wrong and Christ on a combine it’s about as pleasant as a Winnipeg winter for all involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad you guys are liking this! I think I’m gonna do one more chapter after this. Hope you like it!

The first night they were at the ER and didn’t get home til late. By the time they get through the door that night the T3’s they gave him at the hospital have worn off and Darry’s in too much pain to sleep. Every position he tries sends a deep throbbing from his shoulder down to his toes. He’s about to give up, throwing out a dramatic sigh, when he hears a soft tap on his door. 

Wayne finds him half on his good side, half on his stomach, diagonally strewn across the bed. 

“Can hear ya flailin’ through the fuckin’ wall bud.”

He knows he should offer up an apology, Wayne’s got chores to do in the morning, and more on his plate with Darry out of commission, but all he can do is give a frustrated groan. By rights he should be gettin’ chirped at, he’s bein a diva about all this, but to his surprise, Wayne just comes in and kneels by his head. 

“What’s the fuss now?”

“....hurts.”

“Your puzzle’s missin’ some pieces there. What hurts super chief?”

“Everything. Can’t get comfortable.” 

“Well this here looks god damn half hazard. You try sitting up?”

“Headboard rails keep diggin’ into my shoulder.” 

Good lord he sounds like a poopy pants. He deserves a good hit right now he wouldn’t fault Wayne for it at all. But all Wayne says is ‘Kay.’ And then he’s out the door. That doesn’t surprise him. What does surprise him is Wayne comin’ back with all his own pillows, and a couple from the couch. 

“Here.” He says, stacking the pillows methodically. “This’ll do much better.” He helps Darry up and against the stack and he’s right, it is much better. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles, finally remembering his manners. “And thanks for fighting Jivin’ Pete in my honour. ‘T’s always a treat to see that.” He’s rewarded with one of the rarest and best things; what Katy calls a 16-ply smile. It really is some of the softest shit Darry’s ever seen, Wayne’s eyes go all soft and there’s no pucker to his lip. Being on the receiving end always makes his his insides warm and fuzzy. 

“Just doin’ what needed to be done.” 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed fidgeting, and it’s like seeing a double rainbow but for off Wayne activity. See Darry’s known Wayne a long fuckin’ time, and he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his best buddy look downright bashful. But there’s something obviously eating at him so he pats the bed beside him. 

“Well pitter patter bud. There’s something you wanna say, best get at ‘er.”

But instead, Wayne decides to keep surprising him and busies himself by pulling the covers up to Darry’s waist and smoothing them over his legs. It shouldn’t surprise him too much really, Wayne’s always looked after him, it’s just very rarely this tender. More fists involved usually.

“So I’m only gonna say the one thing.” He says, finally sitting down. “And that is... I really fuckin’ hate Pete.”

Darry’s 85 percent sure that’s not what he was gonna say, but if he’s learned one thing, it’s that Wayne’s more stubborn than the toughest bull and if you push him, he’s gonna buck ya. So instead he just reaches out his good hand to grab Wayne’s sleeve. 

“Don’t we all.” With as much feeling as he can put behind it. He’s not sure what the feeling is, but it’s there, and there’s a lot of it. He lets his head fall back against the pillow, which he realizes is Wayne’s. “Say, what kind of shampoo do you use good buddy?” He asks tiredly. “Smells fuckin’ magical.”

“Fuck Dar.” He can feel the exasperation coming off his friend in waves. But there’s an undercurrent of fondness, at least he hopes there is. “Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkward bud.”

Darry doesn’t have the energy to reply. His head against Wayne’s pillow is almost as good as being tucked against his shoulder. Almost. 

 

Darry’s not sure what Wayne gets up too after he closes his eyes, but it ain’t sleepin’ himself thats for damn sure. He comes down for breakfast after morning chores and Wayne and Dan are already at the table but theres no discussion ‘bout anything, just Wayne starin’ into his coffee like it’s gonna tell him his future. He wants to ask him about it, but he knows Wayne won’t talk about it at the breakfast table, so he just kicks him gently as he sits down and nods. Wayne looks up and gives him a little glare, but nods back. Dan doesn’t say anything about the exchange.

“How ya doin’ there sleeping beauty?” Katy asks, coming up behind him and setting down a yogurt cup. She’s always nice to him after he gets roughed up, so long as he wasn’t askin’ for it. He looks up at her with as grateful a look as he can give when half his face is stiff and bruised.

“Think I’ll’s live.” he says. She takes his chin and tilts the rough side up into the light.

“Jesus Dar, this is grisly. Worse than the time we rolled you down the hill in that tire and you fell out.”

“I’d’s say it’s worse than the times he got caught at dragged behinds the sleds for a bits last winter.” Dan chimes in.

“It’s definitely worse than the time I tried flying by jumping off the hay loft.” Darry adds, trying to open his yogurt cup with one hand. It doesn’t go so well.

“’T’s almost not worth thinkin’ about.” Wayne says, taking pity on him and peeling the lid off his breakfast. Katy looks at Wayne like he’s grown a third tit. 

“Now hold on a minute there big brother. You love a walk down Dumb and Darry memory lane. What’s got your panties in a pinch?” Dan nods enthusiastically.

“Yeahs Wayne, you loves remembering the silly escapades of Darry. Who’s got your gitch in their grasp?” Darry looks at Wayne and shrugs his good shoulder.

“Can’t disagree with them here bud, your usually first in line to tell me how dumb I’ve been in days gone by. What’s got your briefs in a bunch?”

Wayne glares at them all, face set in stone except for his rapidly blinking eyes. Darry’s expecting some big long snap, but all they get is a low long growl before.

“I’d explain but times a wastin’. Too much to be done.”

“What’s to be done big brother?”

“Build a fuckin’ chicken coop for one.” and with that Wayne’s out the door, leaving them all in a confused silence. 

“Wells then.” Dan says, not looking away from the door Wayne just walked through. “That is one tight knot in his tightey whiteys if ever I’s seen one.”

An hour later Darry limps out to find Wayne at the old coop, tearing the broken wire off the run, lookin’ about as happy as a cat in the bath. Stormy’s off to the side watching him, head cocked. He goes and stands beside her, scratching her ears.

“What’s he up to Stormy girl?” He asks. Wayne spits before he answers sharply.

“The fuck does it look like I’m doin’ here? Building a fuckin’ chicken coop.”

“Yeah but you’re doin’ it like your working with a hornet up your ass.” Wayne’s stopped working, but he’s still pacing the length of the run in that stomp of his.

“Let me ask you something, ever had a hornet up your ass?” Darry stops to think a minute.

“Not that I can recall.”

“Then can I ask you there Darry, how the fuck can you speak to what it looks like?” Darry looks down at Stormy who seems just about as done with this shit as himself.

“Okay there big shoots, what’s goin’ on?”

“What’d ya mean whats goin’ on?”

“I mean why’ve you had the personality of a raccoon in a burlap sack ever since breakfast, and probably before no doubt?” 

“Fuck Dar, I don’t know, maybe I’m tired. Maybe I got in late last night from takin’ someone to the hospital. Maybe someone took all my good pillows. Who’s to fuckin’ say Darry?” 

He’s pauses his stomping and sits down, back to the wall of the coop, knees up around his chest. Darry rolls his eyes and makes his way towards his friend.

“Jesus, get yourself a fuckin’ puppers.” Wayne squints off into the distance, biting his lip.

“Yeah, probably coulda taken a few percentages offa that.” With some effort, Darry sits down next to Wayne, who’s still lookin’ up at the sky. He kicks his foot out so their boots are side by each and knocks their knees together. It doesn’t make Wayne turn his head, but he does press his knee against Darry’s. “Sorry I yelled at ya bud.” He says after a few moments of silence.

“S’okay bud.” He takes a chance and scoots a bit so they’re shoulder to shoulder. Usually he can’t get this close to Wayne when he’s sober, but his best bud doesn’t say anything, just gives him a sideways glance before settling back against him ever so slightly. “Everything alright though, for real Wayne?”

“Fine and Dandy Dar.” 

“Pinky promise?” 

“Super fuckin’ soft there buddy.”

“Just askin’”

“‘Bout a mile up the road too far there for me.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” He pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “Have a dart?”

“I’d have a dart.” Wayne pulls two out of the pack and hands one to Darry, leaning in to light it for him. Up close, he notices the slight tremor to Wayne’s hands. “Little shaky there?” Wayne pulls back to light his own dart.

“Just too much coffee, not enough shut eye.” He says around his smoke. “You don’t gotta worry about me now.” Darry can feel his face soften as he looks at his best friend.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna.”

“I’m fine Dar, really. Just tired is all.” He gives a sigh that runs through his whole body and holds out his hand, pinky extended. “Promise.” 

Darry doesn’t even care that his smile splits open two cuts on his cheek. He just links his finger with Wayne’s, who’s ears and neck have gone red as the side of the barn. He’s still bothered that Wayne won’t tell him what’s going on, but you could’ve told him he swallowed the damn sun and he would have believed it, the way he felt right now. He relishes the warm feeling of being close to Wayne, fingers still hooked and resting in the crabgrass, dart dangling off his stupid grin.


	3. Space Cadet Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re sister caught you more spaced out than an Interplanetary Darry other day….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is turning out to be much longer than I planned lol. I think I’ve got one more chapter left after this. Hope you like!

It’s been two days since Darry found Wayne out at the coop, which means its been about three days since Wayne last slept. He tries, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Darry laid out on Main Street, and fuck if that isn’t enough to make him start pacing the house at 3am. He can’t figure out why his best bud suddenly makes him super soft in the knees lately. Well, to be fair, he knows why, but he doesn’t know quite to do about it and it’s driving him madder than a fox in a snap trap.

After being interrogated by the Spanish Inquisition the other day, he decides his best course of action is to keep his trap shut. Less you say now, less you have to apologize for and all that. It seems to be workin’ for the most part at least. He can ignore the curious looks from Dan, and the outright glares from Katy; Darry keeps kickin’ him under the table, but aside from trying to start a round of footsie, he don’t say nothing.

He’s watching the three of them play crib at the table that evening, Gus in his lap. Dan tries to get him to join so they can play in pairs, but when all he gets back is a fixed look, he doesn’t push. Truth is he probably couldn’t focus on a hand if he wanted to.

“….Fer fucks sake, earth to Wayne!” He’s been starin’ off into space somewhere above Darry’s curls when he realizes all eyes are on him. Katy’s snapping her fingers over the board, that same look she has when she has to explain something to Pete and Repeat. He gives his head a little shake, trying to bring himself back to the table.

“What’s the fuss now?” Dan and Katy share a look. Darry’s starin’ at him like he’s lost a marble or two.

“Katy asked’ if you’d have a beer.”

“Katy asked four times.” She tacked on, annoyance on her face. “Where’s your head, space cadet?” Wayne matched her glare.

“Apologies.” He says, not meaning it at all. “I’ll soft pass on the beer.” That makes everyone at the table start.

“Waynes, you almosts never pass on a beer.” Dan says in disbelief. Katy’s up out of her seat now, sliding past Darry, who’s features have gone from confused to concerned.

“Alright big brother, what’s going on here? You sick or something?” She goes to put the back of her hand to his forehead but he jerks away.

“Hey now! It hasn’t come to all that.”

“Brother, you look like Casper the unfriendly ghost.” Dan nods from his spot at the table.

“You’s do looks like you’s got carry on bags under your eyes there good buddy.”

“You don’t look good Wayne.” Darry’s socked foot slides over his, and god does it set the fist just squeezing his insides. He sighs, fighting to keep his glare as he slides his foot from under Darry’s.

“It’s no cause for concern.” He says, although he knows it doesn’t have half the power when he’s using old Gus for a pillow. “Just been a wee bit tired lately.”

“Then go to bed Dummy.” Katy says, giving his shoulder a little shove. Lord, if only it were that easy.

“Oh right there, Katy, I hadn’t thought of that, good thing I have you there Super Chief.” Katy steps back, arms crossed, very clearly done with his shit. To be fair, Wayne was also done with his shit.

“I can only work with what you give me, poopy pants.”

“I don’t recall askin’ for your help. I’m fine.” 

“Tell that to your face.”

It takes everything in Wayne not to let out a growl. Instead, he frees Gus from his hold and abruptly stands.

“I’d have a dart.” He says loudly, even though no one asked. He’s out the door, not even pausing to put his boots on before anyone can say anything else.

He tears through his first cigarette and is lighting his second when the screen door opens. He knows it’s Darry without turning around. He’s still stiff on his feet, the awkward gait giving him away. Wayne says nothing, even when Darry comes up and leans on the railing next to him.

“Missin’ yer shoes there buddy.” He says after a minute. Wayne continues to ignore him, watchin’ the moths flutter in the yard light instead. “Wish you’d tell me what’s goin’ on in that gourd of yours.” He still doesn’t respond. “Wayne,”

“Fuck Dar, can’t a man have a dart in peace.” He takes the smoke out of his mouth to spit. “Used to be you see a man havin’ a quiet dart, you’d know to keep to yerself. Fuck, what is it your always sayin’, gotta leave this world behind.” He keeps talking, in the hopes that Darry will piss off and leave him be, but you can’t win em all I suppose. “Can’t you see I’m sortin’ somethin’ out? Can’t you just let me get through it?”

“Nots when you never let me get through anything alone.” The impact of Darry’s words hang between them like laundry on the line. Wayne chances a glance over at his best buddy and the soft look he’s met with pert near shoves his heart up his damn esophagus. He quickly looks away. “You know you’re my best bud?” Wayne clears his throat and gives a curt nod.

“Can confirm.”

“You know that I care about you right?”

“Didn’t sign up for a round of twenty questions here Dar.”

“Wayne.” He sighs, kicking his toe against the railing.

“‘Course I know Darry.”

“Then why won’t you let me help?”

Darry rests his arm against Wayne’s on the rail, making Wayne look over at him again. He’s got the soft orange glow from the porch light behind him, and fuck, Wayne’s never thought of Darry as lookin’ anywhere near angelic, and he still doesn’t now really, not with all the shit down half his face and one of the best shiners he’s ever seen, but it’s the only word Wayne’s brain is supplin’ and lord if it doesn’t hit him like a punch in the gut. 

He’s never considered himself to be the kind of fella to lose control when it mattered, but in this moment he feels the strongest urge to grab Darry’s face in his hands and shout at him, or kiss him, or maybe both, damn the consequences of either. His heart is beating at a hundred and twenty clicks and all he feels is want and want and want. But he’s still a thinkin’ sort of guy, even now, so he does think about the consequences and fuck, he can’t draw up what he’d do if he ever lost Darry, and that’s how he got himself worked up to this point in the first place, so the thought is enough to keep him in check, jaw set.

“You can’t help me with this one bud.” He says. It’s far less smooth than he wants it to sound, so he makes up for it by turning on his heel, flicking the stub of his dart as he heads back inside, leaving Darry in the damn glow.


	4. Super Fuckin' Soft Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yer comin’ back from a late night leak when it all comes to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! This really got away from me, considering I was only planning on writing the first chapter, but here we are! I love these guys too much to just leave them be I guess. Thanks for all the wonderful comments! They make my day each time I read them. Big shoutout to @whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome for screaming about Letterkenny with me and editing this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

It’s three am, and Darry’s stumbling back from the bathroom when he notices a streak of light cut through the hall. He frowns. Wayne always sleeps with his door shut and his lights are off my eleven, with very few exceptions, so it makes Darry pause. 

“Fuck a duck!” There’s a thumping noise as Wayne’s muffled swearing breaks the quiet. Darry finds himself tapping softly on the door but pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

“Wayne?” Wayne’s standing, braced against the dresser on the far wall, foot in his hand. “It’s the middle of the night, what’s the fuckin’ fuss big shooter?” At Darry’s voice, Wayne jumps like he’s heard a gunshot, instead of Darry’s tried mumble. 

“Fuck, give a guy some warning there Dar, slinkin’ around like a barn cat.” His voice is hoarse, but it is the middle of the night, so Darry gives it a pass.

“If I’m a barn cat, yer a cow in labour, all the noise yer givin’ off. What’re you doin’ up?” Wayne scrubs a hand over his face and starts pacin’ the room.

“It’s nothin’ Darry, go back to bed.” Darry steps into the room instead.

“It’s obviously not nothin’.” He reaches out his good arm and grabs the sleeve of Wayne’s thermal, spinning him towards him a little. What he’s faced with drops his heart right into the pit of his stomach. “Wayne, yer cryin.” Wayne touches his fingers to his face, looking at them in surprise when they come away wet. 

“Oh for fucks sakes.” he mumbles to himself. He sniffs, blinking rapidly, but it doesn’t seem to stop anything. It damn near breaks Darry’s heart. Wayne cryin’ is about half as rare as a two-headed calf. It only happens when he buries a dog, and then a handful of times that Darry saw after his parent's accident. He goes to start pacin’ again but Darry gets a better grip on his arm and heards him towards the edge of the bed.

“Hey now, no need to wear a rut in the floorboards. You’ll wake the dead with all this ruckus.” He pushes him down so he’s sitting. Now, normally no one can make Wayne do anything he doesn’t want to, ’cept maybe Katy, so things must be in a real bad way. He takes a chance and places himself in front of Wayne between his legs. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t push him away either so it’s something. “You been dreamin’ bad again?” He knows Wayne occasionally still dreams about his parents. Wayne sniffs, looking at a knot it the hardwood. 

“Yeah, something like that.” Darry hates it when Wayne looks so sad, all the lines of his face slack, biting his lip. 

“Then talk to me about it.” His hand is strokin’ at his pal's shoulder but Wayne’s still not sayin’ anything. “Ain’t nothin you haven’t said before.”

“T’s different this time.” He mumbles around his bottom lip. Now, tryin’ to get soft and close to a sober Wayne is like tryin’ to approach a deer that's come across your yard, if you move to fast, or too much, it’s gonna spook. So it takes him by great surprise when Wayne leans in and rests his head against Darry’s chest, which tightens on contact. Everything about this just so not Wayne. somethin’ in his brain wants to outright call him Darlin’ like Wayne’s his sweetie in distress, but he’s afraid of getting chirped - or more accurately, he’s afraid of not gettin’ chirped cause that might as well just mean the end of days. 

“Hey now, what’s so bad as all this?” he says instead, makin’ his voice soft though. Wayne’s head is restin’ just below where his arm is slung, so he awkwardly drops his hand on top of his hair. He feels Wayne’s nose scrunch against his sternum but otherwise, he doesn’t make any effort to move. “Come on buddy, let's earn this communication badge here.” There’s another moment of silence and then he feels Wayne sigh against him.

“Kay, so - kay. I - kay.” He starts shakily. It takes him another minute to try again. “So, listen. I’ve seen three of the four people I love most in this world spread out on the concrete. Only one of ‘em came back.”

“Aw Wayne…” His good hand’s rubbin’ at a knot at the base of Wayne’s neck now. He can only imagine this must be about as easy as pullin’ teeth for Wayne to talk about He’s usin’ the voice he talks to the newborn calves with when he says, “’T’s okay buddy, I’m here, I’m okay.”

“Mmmmm. But here’s the thing okay? I know that, but I keeps seein’ you out there, it’s just always there like its painted on the back of my lids, and I can’t stop myself from thinkin’ ‘bout what I’d do if you weren’t here. I know it’s not worth thinkin’ about on account of how your here right in front of me…” 

“But you’s thinkin’ about it anyway?”

“I’m thinkin’ about it anyway.” His fingers are grabbing the hem of Darry’s henly, fists resting on his hipbones, somewhere between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

“Why didn’t ya say somethin’?” Darry asks, cupping the back of Wayne’s head. Wayne practically nuzzles him in turn before responding.

“Didn’t seem appropriate. Gettin’ all up in a snit for a grown man who ain’t even dead. “Sides, I’m grown myself, shouldn’t be makin’ such a fuss.”

“T’s okay to tell people when something’s wrong, n’ it’s okay to tell people ya care about them.”

“You know that ain’t how I was brought up.” He does know. This is probably the most in-depth conversation they’ve had since they was kids without one or both of them bein’ phished. He takes a deep breath, knowing his next words could go either way.

“Wayne?” Darry begins, scratching gently at the nape of Wayne’ s neck.

“Yeah Dar?”

“Now I don’t mean to speaks ill of the dead, you know I thinks the world of your dad.” 

“He was a great man.” Wayne jumps on the end of his sentence, and Darry hurries to placate him.

“A great man, ‘course. But he don’t have to be right about everything. I mean, just ain’t likely, from a statistical standpoint ’n all.” Wayne snorts and Darry tries not to think about how he’s probably got snot down the front of his shirt.

“You wanna give it a go tellin’ him that?” Wayne’s words offer up a dare.

“I’m not sure he’d hear me, on account of bein’ six feet under ’n all, but I ain’t about to chance it anyway.” He feels Wayne smile against him just a little, and he gives his neck squeeze. “The way I sees it, you ain’t gonna tell him, n’ I ain’t gonna tell him, so there can’t be too much harm in it, kay?” 

“Kay.” A bit of the tension eases out of Wayne’s shoulders as he agrees tentatively.

“You’re my best buddy, big shooter, and I care abouts you, and you cares about me, and that's all there is to it.” He yawns his way through the last of his sentence, noting the late hour on the bedside clock. Darry’s about to pull away when he realizes his friend has suddenly stiffened. “Wayne? What is it now?” He’s met with silence. “come on bud, I’m tired, I don’t think I can do this from the get go again.” He knows he sounds whiny but he feels a little justified as he sees the little hand on the clock pulling closer to 4. 

“What if - mmmm. What if you don’t like what I gotta say?” 

“When has that ever fuckin’ stopped you? Better lookin’ at it than for it lets go big shoots.” There’s another pause. Darry sighs at Wayne’s feet draggin’.

“What if that’s not all there is to it?” Wayne’s voice is just above a whisper. It’s the quietest Darry’s ever heard Wayne speak. 

“Oh?” It takes him a minute to catch onto what he’s sayin’, but it’s Wayne, so of course, he does catch on eventually. “Oh.” He lets go and steps back a bit so he can look at Wayne, who’s adamantly looking past him. “You sayin’ what I think yer sayin’? Wayne huffs, blinking rapidly again.

“Figure it out, Dar.” Darry reaches out, grabbin’ Wayne’s chin and lifting his gaze to meet his own. The fact that Wayne doesn’t pull away is a good indicator that he’s pretty on the money so far. Wayne’s not squintin’ now, eyes wide as the saucers in the china cabinet downstairs.

“Oh I’m pert near sure I’ve figured it out, I just wanna be sure, cause If I’m wrong yer probably gonna clock me, ’n in the interest of self preservin’ I try not to be on the wrong end ‘f those fists of yours.” Wayne stands. It’s not his usual abrupt way, it’s slow, cautious. At his full height Darry’s gotta look up at him, but not much. His hand falls to his side but Wayne catches it, calloused thumb rubbing over his scarred knuckles.

“….Yer not wrong.”

He sees it coming. Wayne hid emotions pretty well from most people, ‘xcept maybe his displeasure, but not Darry. Darry always knew. Even so, surprise still hits him square in the torso and then melts through him when Wayne’s lips brush against his. It’s softer than he expects, softer than any man he’s kissed before. It’s salty and chaste and nothing he’s ever thought it’d be but it’s also Wayne in every possible way. The begrudging softness sets off that warm light inside him and he feels all the way down to his toes.

“Well fuck every duck.” Darry breathes when they break apart. “How long you been sittin’ on that big shoots?” Wayne’s lookin’ down at him through those lovely lashes of his, 16-ply smile on his face.

“Hard to tie it down.” He says absentmindedly, his eyes still on Darry’s lips. “Maybe a few days.” He leans in again. “Maybe always.” 

“Super fuckin’ soft bud.” Darry chirps, testin’ the waters. He feels Wayne’s breath against his face as he laughs quietly.

“Like the down in a Canada Goose jacket.” Darry gives his own laugh in return.

“Think I kinda like it.” He replies, and he can’t help smiling into the next kiss Wayne gives him.

“You're not mad ‘bout it then?” Wayne asks, hesitating a little. It’s Darry’s turn to reach up and peck him.

“Hard no.” Wayne squints a little at Darry’s quick reply.

“You sure? Feels like I kinda sprung this on ya like a snowstorm in May.”

“I’ve been waitin’.” His answer has Wayne pullin’ back a bit.

“Pump the breaks.”

“I’ll tap ‘em.”

“You’ve been waitin’.” Darry gives him a half shrug. “Fer how long?” 

“Awhile now.” Wayne’s blinkin’ like he can’t quite put two and two together.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“Really?” 

“Yer record’s skippin’ there bud.” Wayne’s face all scrunched up ’n confused is almost too much for Darry. He gives his hand a squeeze. “Wayne, I’m dumb, but I ain’t stupid. How could I pass by on someone like you?” The compliment makes Wayne blush.

“‘M no dinner roll, no need to butter me up.” He grumbles, but he’s smilin’ a bit. “Why didn’t ya say somethin’?”

“Didn’t wanna spook ya. Figured ya needed to figure it out on yer own.” Wayne opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it. Darry gets a look before he opens it again.

“You wanna know what, yer probably right.”

“'M smarter than I look.” Wayne smirks.

“Ain’t sayin’ much there.”

“Hey now.” But Darry can’t keep the smile off his face. He’s glad the casual beakin’ is back between them. Settles something inside him. They’re both just standin’ there smilin’ like idiots and Darry can’t help feel like he won the Chase the Ace Jackpot at The Legion. He thinks about leanin’ up for another kiss when Wayne yawns wider than a three-lane highway. “Gettin’ late.” He says instead.

“10-4.” 

“Should probably get to bed. Chorin’s comin’ sooner than later.” He squeezes Wayne’s hand once more before tryin’ to let go, but Wayne holds fast.

“Say Darry…”

“Wayne.”

“Might not be proper ’n whatnot… ‘m not usually that type of girl…nothin’ inappropriate ‘r nothin’, just…” Wayne trails off but Darry picks up what Wayne’s layin’ down.

“You want me to stay?”

“soft yes.” Wayne starts blinkin’ again and Darry wonders if he knows he’s pert near battin’ his pretty lashes at him. He can’t help but kiss Wayne’s scratchy cheek.

“The softest.”


End file.
